The Heart of Memory (13 page)

“I know. But I can’t help it.”

“Keep praying about it.”

Jessie sniffed again. “Yeah, I know. Hey, I gotta run. Dinner ends in twenty minutes and I haven’t eaten yet.”

“Okay, keep me posted.”

“Will do.” Jessie ended the call and mopped up her face with a tissue. She knew Angie was right, but she also felt like it was all for naught. It wasn’t like she hadn’t tried in the past to make things better. What had she been thinking? It hadn’t worked then, and she had no reason to think it would work now.

She thought about her life in ten years, about having her own children and what their relationship with Savannah would be like. Would Savannah treat them any differently? If she didn’t change, Jessie didn’t want to subject them to the same kind of subtle and not-so-subtle criticism that she’d lived with. And Savannah’s criticism of her wouldn’t suddenly end — it would just shift from her personal choices to her child-rearing choices. She’d read posts on the mothering forum about how some of those moms had to deal with their own parents butting in when it came to discipline and parenting and how damaging it was, to the point where they’d chosen to limit, or cut out altogether, the time their children spent with their grandparents. Granted, other circumstances were often at play that Jessie didn’t have to worry about—past abuse, mental health issues — but the thought of having the stress and arguments out of her life sure sounded appealing.

Though that would mean Mom was out of my life as well.
That wasn’t possible without something extreme happening, and almost losing her mother had shown her she didn’t
really
want that. But if the expectation of seeing her as often as she currently did was removed, Jessie had a feeling she’d be a lot happier.

Her stomach rumbled. Tossing the tissue to the trash, she rolled off the bed and onto her feet. Out of habit she began to text Adam about meeting her for dinner, then erased the message. Better to eat alone. She had some thinking she had to do.

S
AVANNAH WAS JUST OVER THREE
weeks past her transplant when Shaun finally convinced her to come in to A&A and see everyone. “You haven’t been there in four months,” he reminded her. “These people are like our family. They miss you. And as their leader, you really should reconnect with them, even if it’s just a brief drop-in.”

Guilt was the only thing motivating her to go. She knew it was bad form not to at least go and say thank you in person — their cards and flowers had filled her room at the hospital, and they’d provided meals and encouragement for Shaun throughout her post-op hospitalization. But save for her frequent doctor visits, she hadn’t left the house since coming home, and the idea of being out in public —exposed to germs and feeling like a freak show on display, not to mention interacting with people—felt monumental.

She stood in her closet and surveyed her wardrobe. She’d been living in pajamas and sweats, and now none of her normal clothes appealed to her at all. All the jewel-toned pantsuits and blouses looked gaudy—why hadn’t she noticed that before? She flipped through the hangers until she found a simple white blouse and a faded pair of jeans. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d worn either one, and they weren’t the most interesting ensemble. But at least it didn’t make her look like a limelight-seeking attention hog.

She pulled on the blouse and tried to button it, but it wouldn’t fit across her stomach. Frowning, she pulled on the jeans, but came nowhere near close to being able to button them. She yanked them both off and stared at herself in the full-length mirror behind the door. She hadn’t taken a good look at her body since well before her illness, and she was stunned to see how different she looked. It wasn’t just the red line that bisected her body from neck to navel, though that was disturbing in and of itself. It was the way she had filled out—or, more accurately, swollen. She’d been warned of this side effect of one of her medications, and had put away her wedding and engagement rings the previous week when she noticed how difficult it had become to remove them. But her roomy pajamas had hidden the truth, and she’d excused the tightness of her yoga pants and T-shirts as being the result of not exercising regularly like she had before her illness. But this was not just muscle going to flab. This was honest to goodness weight gain. A lot of it.

She pulled another pair of jeans from a drawer and tried them on. No luck. She tried an elastic-waisted pair of slacks, though they were technically too heavy for the September heat. No luck again. She began to panic. She hadn’t been more than a size 8 since having Jessie.

Jessie
! She pulled on her robe and went into Jessie’s room. Surely she hadn’t taken all her clothes with her to college. She opened the closet and breathed a sigh of relief. Not much was there, but certainly something here would fit. Jessie had inherited her father’s bigger bones and owned mostly 10's and 12's.

Savannah found a pair of jeans with a rip in the knee and pulled them on with figurative fingers crossed.
Bingo!
Encouraged, she took a little time to see what else was there. Her daughter’s style definitely ran more towards the outdoorsy Coloradan side of the spectrum than Savannah’s smart businesswoman attire. She now found herself drawn to the subdued, natural colors that Jessie favored — slate blues, hunter greens, grays, and browns. She selected a long-sleeved T-shirt in a mossy color and reveled in how comfortable it was. She’d have to get some of these. She looked dressed for October more than September, but at least the clothes fit. And maybe the extra warmth would help with the perpetual chill in her chest.

T
HE DRIVE TO
A&A
FELT
longer than it used to. She found herself wishing something would happen to divert them. It used to be that she loved going in, chumming around with the women, taking everyone out for an impromptu coffee break. Being there always made her feel like she was a part of something bigger than herself.

But when she walked into the office now, that feeling eluded her. Instead, as everyone dropped their work to smother her with “Welcome back” and “We missed you so much,” she saw things as though the veneer had been sanded off: how needy they were for her approval, how desperate to please her, how they ignored Shaun in favor of kissing up to her despite the fact that he really ran things. Even the decor struck her wrong—the cheesy Scripture-laden prints in poster frames on the wall, the plastic plants in the corner, the depressing gray cubicles. She couldn’t believe she’d ever felt at home here.

“I’ll be in my office,” Shaun said with a smile that looked forced and left her to handle the staff on her own. Only Marisa appeared to be unfazed by her return. They hadn’t had a true conversation yet, however, and Savannah was nervous about being alone with her. Savannah had often joked that Marisa knew her better than Shaun — but now she felt like no one knew her, not even herself.

After a few minutes Marisa was the one who stepped in and said, “Let’s not overwhelm her—plus she has to be mindful of germs, since her meds suppress her immune system. Right?”

Grateful for Marisa’s cautious thinking, Savannah nodded. “Yes, right, exactly—to ward off the possibility of rejection.” It was her most cherished excuse these days. Why else would she avoid her own ministry for so long, or skip church Sunday after Sunday?

The others fell back like chastised children, and Marisa led her by the elbow to the front door. “Let’s go get some coffee and go over some things.”

Savannah was grateful for the rescue, though she didn’t really want to go talk, either. She wasn’t sure which would be worse: to be one-on-one with Marisa and have her seeing right through her, or to stay at A&A and have the rest of her staff nipping at her heels like hungry puppies. She followed Marisa to her car and tried not to look as conflicted as she felt.

Marisa wasted no time. The car was barely out of the parking lot when, voice tinged with concern, she asked, “So what’s up with you? It’s like you got a personality transplant with that heart.”

Savannah’s heart sank. Not even any small talk before digging in. She tried to put her off, though she knew it was only a matter of time before Marisa figured everything out. “What on earth are you talking about?”

“You’re one of the most social people I’ve ever met, but it looked in there like you were about to have a panic attack.”

“That’s not how I felt,” Savannah lied.

“Then how did you feel?”

Marisa might be her closest friend, but that didn’t mean Savannah was ready to fully open up about the doubts and fear and inexplicable anger that were eating her up inside. “I don’t feel like myself anymore,” she finally offered.

Marisa nodded, eyes on the road. “That’s understandable. Regardless of the physical effects of having a new heart, I can imagine the mental and emotional impact would be pretty profound.”

“Yes, exactly.” Savannah appreciated the refreshing lack of Christianese platitudes in Marisa’s response. “I didn’t expect this. They told me I might be depressed, but I’m not. I’m …” She hesitated, not wanting to reveal too much about how she seemed to have changed. “I’m sure it’ll all settle down eventually and I’ll be back to the old Savannah.”

Marisa gave her a sidelong look but said nothing.

They went to their usual coffee hangout, where Marisa presented Savannah with an impressive and overwhelming backlog of mail. Together they crafted responses for the various kinds of letters — a thank you message for those sending notes of encouragement and prayers for her recovery, gentle letters of decline to those asking her to come speak to their church/women’s ministry/mom’s ministry — then Savannah signed bookplates requested by readers. They weren’t there long, but it was enough time for Savannah to feel like she could handle going back into the fray at A&A without snapping. Marisa said nothing else about how she had changed, though Savannah knew she wouldn’t drop the subject completely. Maybe the next time she asked Savannah would be ready to open up.

After finishing their business, Marisa gave Savannah an almost shy look. “I wanted to talk to you about something—but I feel badly bringing it up.”

She groaned inside. “Why? What is it?”

“Well …” Marisa plucked invisible lint from her skirt. “I’m feeling really conflicted about something. Normally I’d come straight to you to hash it out, but my frustrations feel so petty compared to what you’re going through.”

Savannah let out a genuine laugh. “Marisa, I can’t tell you how nice it would be to think about someone else’s problems for a while. Not that I’m glad you’ve got them, of course. But seriously, your issues are no less important to you just because I’ve got my own thing going on. Spill it.”

Marisa chuckled. “Okay, good.” She took a deep breath and blew it out slowly before starting. “Well, here’s the deal. The time I was in New York with Jeremy was amazing. I never thought I’d love that city, but I’m really starting to. And things with Jeremy … they’re so wonderful when we’re actually in the same time zone. This long-distance thing is really starting to get hard.” She stilled her fidgety hands in her lap and finally made eye contact with Savannah. “He wants to marry me.”

Savannah smiled. “That’s wonderful! Right?”

Marisa smiled, looking slightly less nervous. “Yes, it’s wonderful. But definitely not doable while we’re still so far apart. Neither of us can just up and transfer our jobs. I
could
find work out there, but I don’t want to just leave you and A&A. I mean, this is so much more than just a job to me — you’re my friend, this is my ministry …” She sighed. “I’m feeling really stuck.”

Savannah nodded slowly as the words sunk in. Marisa had been her closest friend for years now—it was hard to imagine life without her. Not even Shaun knew some of the things about her that Marisa did. But if Marisa moved, it would mean one less person she had to try to fool into thinking she was the same person she’d always been — and Marisa would be the hardest of them all to keep in the dark.

“Listen, Marisa — if you love this man, and he loves you, then you need to do whatever needs to be done to make sure you don’t lose this opportunity. And if that means leaving A&A and moving on to New York, I’m okay with that.”

Marisa blinked. “You — you are?”

“Yes, I am. This might be … confirmation, you might say, that things are going to be changing for me, in terms of ministry. And I’m okay with that.”

“Oh.” Marisa shook her head, eyes wide with surprise. “I wasn’t expecting that. Thank you for being so understanding. I really can’t imagine leaving, but maybe this is God’s way of confirming that Jeremy and I really are meant to be together.”

“Ah, yes, there you go.”

“Still …” Marisa frowned. “It’s hard to imagine. You and I are so close, and this ministry means so much to me …” She looked to Savannah. “Would you mind praying for me?”

Savannah was taken aback. “What, now?”

Marisa gave her a puzzled smile. “If you don’t mind. Just for some peace and clarity.”

“Oh … sure.” Savannah closed her eyes as Marisa did, scrambling for the words to say.

It was then she realized she hadn’t prayed once since the surgery.

She fumbled through what she hoped was a coherent prayer that wouldn’t make Marisa think she’d lost her mind. But if Marisa was concerned, she didn’t say anything, and they drove back to A&A without much conversation. Savannah thought back over the weeks, sure she was forgetting something, but no, she really hadn’t prayed. She’d
tried,
but only a handful of times, and always unsuccessfully. She wasn’t sure what concerned her more—the fact that she hadn’t prayed, or the fact that she hadn’t noticed.